Adorable Psycho vs the Nine Months
by mxpw
Summary: A life changing event occurs between Chuck and Sarah. As a result, Casey freaks, Chuck deals, Sarah rampages, the government panics, and Los Angeles is declared a disaster zone. Will anyone make it out alive when the 9 months are up?
1. One month

**Author's Note:** First, and most obvious, I must thank **Wepdiggy** for letting me play with his awesome creation. This character he came up with has provided me, and I think you, with a lot of amusement since he first debuted her. I'm honored that he's letting me try my own hand at crafting a story about this adorable, but crazy Sarah. This will be the longest AP Sarah story yet, I think, but I hope you stick with me throughout the whole ride. I think it'll be a hell of a trip.

Thanks and acknowledgments must go out to **Wepdiggy**, **ne71**, and **Liam2** who have all contributed to the mythos of this character and franchise (yeah, this is toally a franchise). I'm simply taking what they have built and adding to it, while hoping not to embarrass myself in the process. Thanks, guys!

Oh, and for those of you wondering about when the latest chapter of DA will come out, all I can say is...soon. The premiere has really harshed my writing buzz, but I think with AP Sarah, I just might be able to get over my malaise. We shall see. Enjoy!

* * *

Chuck took a deep breath. He had to steel himself for what he was about to do. The next few minutes would not be easy, but he had no choice, Casey needed to be told.

He knocked.

Once.

He adjusted his shirt and shifted his feet.

Twice.

He wiped sweaty palms against his pants. He didn't know why he was freaking out so much.

Three times.

This was happy news. It was the best news of his life. He hadn't felt this elated since the first time Sarah told him she loved him. So why did he suddenly have a growing pit of dread in the middle of his stomach? Why did he feel this sense of foreboding, hanging over his neck like the Sword of Damocles?

He should have never bet Sarah he could actually keep his hands to himself for more than a minute while she stood naked in front of him.

Stupid girlfriend and her perfect body. Oh but her skin was so soft…

Four times.

Where the hell was Casey? He wanted to get this over with.

Five times.

He brushed hair away from his face and sighed. He had no idea how Casey was going to react to his news. What he had to say would change all of their lives forever.

Finally the door was wrenched open and Casey was standing in front of him in his normal relaxation attire: half open robe, white undershirt, and what looked like a pair of Ronald Reagan embossed boxers. Good old 40th.

"What do you want, Bartowski? It's my day off."

Chuck gulped and suddenly his mouth went dry. "I…I…I…"

Casey scowled and growled out, "Spit it out, Bartowski!" Casey leaned against the door frame. "Or is your jaw too tired from last night?" Casey asked sardonically. "How many times do I have to tell your crazyass girlfriend that the neighborhood doesn't need a play-by-play when you fulfill your contractual obligations?"

Chuck blushed furiously and tugged at his shirt collar. Why couldn't he make the words come out!? "Um…um…"

"Oh for Christ sake," Casey snarled and slammed the door closed.

Chuck blinked and realized that if he didn't do this, then Sarah would have to do it, and Sarah having this conversation with Casey was a recipe for disaster.

Chuck sucked in a breath, heard Sarah's caustic voice telling him to get the sand out of his vagina ringing in the back of his mind, and pounded on the door.

Casey quickly answered, clearly pissed off. Chuck blurted out, "Sarah's pregnant!"

Casey stared at him for a very long time. His face was completely blank, his eyes a little glassy, his jaw dropped just slightly. Then genuine, naked fear darkened Casey's face.

"Well…fuck."

* * *

**One month…**

Sarah stood in front of the mirror, checking out her profile, completely naked. She slowly rubbed her hands across her stomach and hummed in contemplation. She turned to Chuck, who was lounging on their bed in his boxers, a wide grin on his face. He was clearly enjoying the view.

"Do you think I look fat?"

Chuck's eyes widened and he gaped at her. "Sarah, of course not! You have the best body I've ever seen."

She narrowed her eyes sharply and placed her hands on her hips. "And just how many other bodies have you been looking at, huh?"

"What? No! None!"

She softened her hawkish glare and smiled wide, pleased at receiving the correct response. "Good! I'd hate to have to start following you around everywhere you go, making sure you're staying out of trouble." She looked down at her belly. "I mean, I would do it of course, you can never be too careful these days, but then I'd have to get Casey to dispose of all the bodies and honestly that's half the fun."

She couldn't believe that she actually had another person growing inside of her; a person that was half Chuck and half her.

Truth be told, she was rather terrified of becoming a mother. Not that she wasn't looking forward to it, she was ecstatic. She was just very unconfident about her ability to be motherly. She wasn't really sure she had any actual lessons she could teach a child.

Oh sure, she could teach her daughter how to gut a scrotum in one easy slice, or teach her son how to shatter some bully's kneecap, but she didn't think Chuck, with his girly non-confrontational ways, would approve of such things. What else did she have to pass onto her children?

But she could deal with her fear and apprehension because now she would always have a part of Chuck with her, no matter what. He could never leave her now. At least not for 18 years. She'd probably have to make sure this was a repeat occurrence, just to be on the safe side.

If she spaced the kids out far enough, she could keep Chuck securely by her side for years to come. That thought put a smile on her face and she stopped rubbing her stomach.

"So you really don't think I look fat?"

Chuck scrambled out of bed and walked determinedly up to her. He cupped her face gently, his thumb brushing across her chin. She couldn't help but lean into his hand and close her eyes.

"You look perfect. You're not even remotely close to showing. And when you do, you'll still look perfect." Chuck sounded completely sincere but it did little to settle her growing annoyance and fear.

She scoffed and opened her eyes to glare at her boyfriend. This was really her biggest fear. When she lost her perfect body would she still be able to hold Chuck's interest? There were going to be literally hundreds of brunette sluts who, she could admit, would have much better bodies than hers for the next nine months. What if Chuck didn't want to waste his time on his whale of a girlfriend anymore, especially when he could have any of the numerous skanks that were going to be throwing themselves at his feet? It was going to be really hard to pull off intimidating when she had to waddle everywhere.

She would just have to pretend she was a really terrifying penguin.

She reached up with both hands and grabbed hold of Chuck's ears. She pulled down hard until his face was only inches away from hers. Chuck yelped in surprised pain but she ignored his complaints. She stared directly into his eyes and said in a threatening voice, "Promise me that no matter how much I start to resemble the Goodyear blimp, you'll never leave me and that you'll ignore all other women."

"Of course I would never leave you, Sarah!" he said, wide eyed.

"And the other thing too!"

"You want me to ignore ALL women? Like in the whole world?"

"Yes."

"But Sarah…"

"Oh, and you have to promise to plow me nightly even when I'm nine months pregnant." She cursed under her breath. "Damn it, I should have put a pregnancy clause into the contract."

"What? Sarah…"

She kissed Chuck to shut his spluttering up. When she pulled away, she was slightly breathless. "Time for sex now, Chuck." Then she turned him around and pushed him toward the bed.

Chuck wordlessly did as he was told, pushing his boxers off his hips as he walked back to toward the bed. She grinned in satisfaction. She had him well trained now. She looked at herself one last time in the mirror.

"Hmm…" she said. "At least I'll get bigger tits out of this. That should help keep him around."

Then she climbed onto the bed and pounced on her waiting boyfriend with a predatory grin.

* * *

**What's next** - _Two months_: Chuck asks Sarah an important question and gets an answer he does not expect.


	2. Two months

**Author's Note:** New chapter time! Hooray! Some of you may be wondering when the craziness is going to start happening or the funny, and all I can say is please be patient. This story has 10 chapters, and things don't really get kicked into high gear until Chapter 4, but trust me, when it does happen, I think it'll be fun. So just stick with me until then, and I hope you enjoy the ride.

Thanks again must go to the AP Sarah OG, **Wepdiggy**. Thanks a lot, dude, for letting me play with your character. Also, this chapter is for lambchops. I know it's a few days late, but I hope you like it anyway.

On a side note, some of you may be curious about when DA will be updated again (if you even remember that it exists). Unfortunately, I'm going through a pretty difficult time in my personal life and writing DA takes a lot of time and concentration. Stories like this one or my smut series...don't. So I like to use them to get away from how much my real life sucks at the moment. But I am working on DA, it's just taking forever, and for that I apologize.

* * *

Casey collapsed into his recliner, immediately reaching for the bottle of scotch on his coffee table. He poured until the glass was full and then took a long drink.

"Celebratory drink?" Chuck asked hopefully. It wasn't often he got to do some male bonding with Casey.

Casey just ignored him, a dazed look in his eyes. "How did this happen?"

"Er…well, normally Sarah gets this really threatening tone in her voice and I just basically do whatever she says after that."

Casey's focus snapped to him and the big man's eyes narrowed. "What? No, you moron, not that. And spare me the details."

"Oooookay," Chuck drawled out, completely confused.

"I just mean how? Walker is always bragging about buying those bulk 250/pack condom boxes from the Large Mart. Apparently you two go through one of those every three months, or so she claims." Casey made an exaggerated gagging noise and looked sick.

"It's 125, actually. That's the biggest the Large Mart sells."

"Oh God," Casey moaned dejectedly and held his glass of scotch against his forehead.

"That's exactly what Sarah says most nights."

"Say another word and I'll kill you and I really don't want to have to spend the rest of my life on the run because your girlfriend took it so personal."

Chuck clamped his mouth shut and did his best not to grin.

Casey continued talking, "I guess it was bound to happen eventually. The way you regularly boot up her hard drive, statistically you were bound to get your floppy stuck somewhere in her disk drive."

"Really, Casey? Really? That's the best you could come up with?"

Casey growled and drained the rest of his glass. "I'm in shock, lay off alright." Then he reached across and grabbed Chuck's shirt, yanking him out of his chair. "Why did you do it?" Casey demanded in a near desperate tone. "You've doomed us all!"

Chuck carefully removed Casey's hand from his shirt and then carefully sat back down. He got the distinct feeling that Casey would probably not react well to any sudden movements at this point in time.

"It's not like we planned this, okay? It just…happened."

Casey poured himself another full glass of scotch. He muttered under his breath as he sipped from his glass like a sulking child, both of his massive paws wrapped around the glass in a white knuckled grip. "I knew I should have insisted the General get you neutered as soon as you started basting Walker's turkey."

Chuck rolled his eyes at yet another of Casey's colorful metaphors. "I love Sarah and this is the best news of my life, I don't care what you say."

Casey just grunted, and it distinctly sounded like the grunt he always used when he expressed his feelings for Sarah to the older man: 'Sucker'. Casey stared at him and then smirked slightly. "You know what this means, right?"

"What?" Chuck asked a bit warily. He didn't really like the look on Casey's face.

"You're going to have to marry her now."

"Oh," Chuck said in relief. "The thought had crossed my mind."

"Cause you know Miss Psycho over there," Casey made a hand gesture in the direction of Chuck's apartment, "isn't going to take too well to being an unwed mother. You should see her when she watches Maury in Castle on her lunch breaks when you aren't around to keep her sane. The phrase 'stupid teenage sluts' has lost all meaning to me now."

**

* * *

**

**Two months**…

Sarah was trying desperately not to cry as Claire Beasley told Sam that she loved him but that she didn't think she could ever trust him with her heart again.

If only Claire had just let Sam plow her at least once. That might make their current separation slightly more bearable to her. But nooooo, Claire had to be an idiot and every time Sam tried to move their relationship forward, she had always said no. And now, of course, that would probably never happen as Claire was hurt and Sam was too preoccupied with other things. Sarah couldn't even imagine a situation where she wouldn't let Chuck have his way with her, especially now that he was finally hers. She certainly wouldn't let him breakup with her without at least one last night of sex either. Just the thought of the hell Claire was probably going through made her incredibly sad.

She sniffled loudly and her eyes welled up.

Stupid hormones.

She wasn't even sure if she could use that as a legitimate excuse at this point, but she was going to do it anyway when Chuck inevitably teased her for crying over a television show. Was it her fault the current season's storyline hit a little close to home? And it wasn't like she'd have much opportunity to cry over _Sam_ for much longer now that this would be the last season.

She would miss her favorite TV show, but you just don't mess with another woman's man.

"Honey, are you okay?" Chuck asked from beside her.

Sarah turned around and hit Chuck in the chest. Hard. "Stupid boyfriend!"

Chuck cried out like a girl and rubbed his chest where Sarah had hit him. "Hey! What did you do that for?"

"For making me cry!"

"I didn't even do anything!"

Sarah spun around on the couch, sitting on her legs. She glared at Chuck fiercely. "You know exactly what I'm talking about."

Chuck frowned and she couldn't help but reach out and push some hair off his forehead. She was happy that he was taking her…advice and starting to grow his hair out a little more. She had missed his curls. They were much more fun to dig her fingers into when they were making love.

She mentally rolled her eyes at the term. She didn't know what was wrong with mating (technically she could use that one now if she wanted) or fucking or getting laid or her personal favorite, plowing, but she had promised that she would start watching her language now as practice for when the baby came.

"I'm sorry," Chuck said solemnly.

Sarah sighed and leaned forward to kiss Chuck lightly on the lips. "It's okay, I forgive you." Then she brightened and smiled wide. "You can make it up to me by fucki…I mean, making love to me," she said, her smile diminishing slightly.

And then she straddled his waist and started to kiss him passionately.

"Wait!" Chuck mumbled against her mouth, in between kisses.

Sarah pulled back to look at Chuck like he had two heads. Which, come to think of it, might actually be kind of fun.

"What the hell do you mean, 'wait'?" she growled. She grabbed clumps of hair and pulled slightly. She did not like being deprived of what was rightfully hers.

Chuck winced but she could see determination fill his eyes.

Uh-oh. He was about to do something really important. She knew that look. It was the same look that he had gotten in his eyes back in Prague.

Panic immediately shot through her. No no no no no no no… He couldn't do this to her again!

Now she felt like crying for a whole other reason. NO. Please, Chuck, no!

"I just," Chuck sucked in a heavy breath, "have something I need to say. Well, ask, actually."

"You're turning down sex?" Sarah asked in a trembling voice.

"No!" Chuck blurted. "Just saying no to sex right _now_."

"That's the same thing!" Sarah wailed.

Chuck carefully lifted her off his lap and put her back down on the couch. She was so dazed that she barely reacted. Chuck stood up and began to pace in front of her.

He took a deep breath, wiped his palms against his pants, and said, "Sarah, I love you."

She blinked and looked at Chuck with hope.

"You are the most amazing woman I've ever met and I can't imagine my life without you in it."

This was getting progressively better. Maybe he wasn't going to break up with her after all?

"I don't want to be your boyfriend anymore, Sarah," Chuck intoned seriously and she felt her heart stop in dread. "I want to be your husband." Then Chuck dropped to one knee in front of her and opened up a ring box.

Huh…so that's what she'd felt when she sat on his lap. She had thought it had felt a little more square than usual. Made sense now.

"Sarah Walker, will you marry me?"

Her heart stopped for another reason entirely and then she snapped. She reached out and punched Chuck straight in the jaw. "You asshole!"

Chuck flew back to land on his ass, the ring tumbling out of his hand. He sat on his ass, clearly stunned, rubbing his jaw. "Wow, so not the reaction I was expecting."

"How can you ask me that now?!" Sarah raged.

"Um…because I love you?"

"You're just asking because you knocked me up!"

"What? No!" Chuck immediately objected.

"Yes, you are! I don't want to be your second choice, Chuck! That's what I've always been! I want you to ask me that because you want to, not because you _have_ to!"

"Sarah, I've always wanted to marry you," Chuck said hastily.

"I don't believe you," Sarah snapped.

"How can you say that?"

"I remember a certain time at a certain train station where…"

Chuck cut her off with an angry hand gesture. "Sarah! I wanted to marry you even then. I want to marry you now. You being pregnant is just added incentive."

"See!?"

Chuck ran a hand across his face. "No, damn it, I didn't mean it like that!"

She started to sniffle. "That's all I am to you, aren't I? An obligation!"

Chuck got on his knees and started searching for the ring. "You're being ridiculous, Sarah. I love you. I want to marry you. I've wanted to marry you for a long time. I got this…" he found the ring box and held it up high with a triumphant look on his face, "ring months ago."

That gave her pause. Was it possible he was telling the truth? What was she thinking? Of course he was telling the truth. Chuck didn't lie, at least not to her. That's one of the things she loved most about him. "You did?"

Chuck nodded enthusiastically and held the ring out to her. She took it tentatively, her hand shaking slightly. "I even have the receipt if you don't believe me."

The ring was very simple and beautiful, with a diamond that was not overly large, but just big enough to be noticeable. It was perfect for her.

The couch shifted slightly and she felt Chuck sit beside her. One of his large hands settled on top of hers and he gently extracted the ring from the box and grabbed her hand delicately. "So look, I'm really not asking this just because you're pregnant. I swear."

Sarah just stared at the ring, a feeling of overwhelming happiness bubbling inside of her. She couldn't believe that this was actually happening, that Chuck was actually asking her, not a better woman, but _her_, to marry him. It was one of the best moments of her life.

"Yes," she said. It was all she could say, and the word came out as a hoarse whisper.

Chuck gave her his biggest smile and he placed the ring on her finger. Wow. This was really happening. She started to cry again, this time for a completely different reason.

Stupid hormones.

Then it hit her and she flushed involuntarily.

"Chuck…where did you get this ring?"

"A small jewelry store in West Hollywood. Devon recommended them to me. They were awesome."

Oh…oh...oh crap.

"A store in West Hollywood?" she repeated weakly.

Chuck's eyes immediately narrowed and suddenly he was squeezing her newly garnished hand. "Sarah, what did you do?"

She wrenched her hand free and sprung off the couch. Now it was her turn to pace nervously. Technically, she didn't really have to tell him. It had happened months ago and this was supposed to be a happy time. She was getting married! But she didn't want her new status as Chuck's fiancée to be tainted with lies, even if they were lies of omission.

"I thought you were cheating on me," she mumbled.

"What?"

"I thought you were cheating on me," she said a lot louder. "The way you were always standing so close to her. And she was always touching your arm!" She'd seen the way the woman had hung all over Chuck through the big windows that lined the front of the store.

"You didn't…" Chuck started to say but quickly clamped his jaw shut. "Of course you did."

"I'm sorry, I just thought…she had brown hair, Chuck!" she exclaimed, suddenly angry, like this was all his fault. "And she was far too attractive just to be a saleswoman. What if…what if…" her eyes brightened, "what if it was just a cover for an underground prostitution ring!"

"A prostitution ring?" Chuck asked in dazed disbelief.

Sarah nodded eagerly. "They lure stupid and unsuspecting men with money to burn by enticing them with promises of sex and…and…" She honestly had no idea where she was going with her chain of thought.

Chuck just stared at her until he finally asked in clear exasperation, "It was a jewelry store, what did you think I was there for?"

"I don't know…an afternoon quickie?" Sarah glared at Chuck and crossed her arms in front of her chest. "It's not like those skanks aren't always hanging all over you."

"So now this is my fault?"

"It's always your fault!"

"But I didn't do anything. I only went there two times!"

"I know that now," she mumbled, suitably chagrined.

"I don't want to know. I just…no," Chuck said determinedly. "This is a special occasion and I am taking you out to dinner."

He was letting her off the hook? Wow. And she hadn't even gotten to the part where she had polished the interloping slut's eyes with one of the store's buffing machine. The brunette bitch sure had convulsed funny, like a fish flopping about on dry land.

She needed to get Chuck's mind completely off the jewelry store and so she grabbed Chuck's hand and started to pull him toward their bedroom. "We can eat dinner tomorrow. I want post-engagement sex and I want it now."

"Dinner tomorrow? But it's only four…"

"You didn't really think after giving me this ring you'd get away without sexing me up all night, did you?" Sarah just smiled at him. "Silly Chuck, if I can still walk tomorrow morning, you're clearly doing something wrong."

* * *

**What's next** - _Three months_: Casey makes an observation about Sarah that nearly gets him killed.


	3. Three months

**Author's Note**: Wow, guys, the response was pretty amazing for the last chapter. I can't wait to see how you react to this chapter. Don't expect an update during the week though, but I'll try.

Thanks go to **Wepdiggy**, as usual, for letting me write this story. And like before, this story is for the devil on my shoulder. I hope you like it, and please, no more bleating, you just make me feel bad. :P

* * *

"Casey, you don't have to worry, I have every intention of asking Sarah to marry me."

"You should do it now before she starts to think you're putting it off."

Chuck shifted nervously in his chair. He really did plan to ask Sarah to marry him, but it was a big step and he really didn't want to rush into anything. He'd just learned about Sarah being pregnant only a few days ago. He was still processing the huge change his life was about to undergo, he wasn't sure he was ready for another monumental step in his path to adulthood.

"I will ask her when I'm ready, Casey," Chuck said firmly.

Casey growled, "I have a shotgun, you know. Don't think I won't use it if you dick around too long about popping the question."

"Christ, Casey, I think you're overreacting a little bit. Sarah is not that bad."

Casey's eyes bugged wide and his empty scotch glass tumbled to the ground, where it bounced once on the carpet before settling on its side. "Not that bad?" He tensed up, the vein on his neck throbbing. "Not that bad!?" he repeated with a yell.

Chuck was taken aback by Casey's reaction and he immediately felt like he needed to defend the love of his life. "Yes, not that bad! She follows the rules! She won't break the contract."

Casey broke out into a fit of laughter. He was bent over at the waist, his arms wrapped tightly around his middle, and his booming laughter echoing throughout the house. He grabbed the bottle of scotch and started to drink straight from it, in between laughs. When he finally calmed down and wiped his face, Casey just stared at him. "Oh you dumb bastard, you have no idea what kind of devastation you just unleashed upon the world."

Casey listed slightly in his chair and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "You just had to go and open Pandora's Box, didn't you? You just couldn't leave her box alone?" Casey closed his eyes and mumbled under his breath, "Not that she'd let him, stupid horny, psychotic, moony-eyed CIA skirt."

Casey was clearly well on his way to being drunk as he took another long pull from the bottle of scotch. Casey opened his eyes and looked unfocusedly at him. "You honestly think that a woman that once literally shoved a stiletto up some guy's ass because he said she had a nice pair of legs is really going to hold to some silly piece of paper when her body is under assault by pregnancy hormones?"

"Yes," Chuck said weakly, not anywhere near as convinced as he had been before Casey's tirade.

Casey finally calmed down enough to stand up and walk shakily over to a cabinet near his computer. He started rifling through a collection of disks, still muttering things only he understood, until he finally found the one he was looking for. When his eyes settled on the disk in its clear, plastic case, the big man grunted and slowly made his way over to his TV. He swayed slightly, in a remarkable imitation of Jeff, before putting the disk in the DVD player.

Chuck could just make out the words written on a label for the DVD: _What to expect when Walker's expecting_.

Casey sat back down with a huff and grabbed his bottle, sipping from it absently. "I had some tech boys back at Fort Meade whip this up for us in case this situation ever came up." Then he pressed a button on the remote control in his hand. "This is the equivalent of what happens when your girlfriend gets it in her head that you're cheating on her on a good day," he said.

On screen was black and white footage of several Higgins boats approaching a beach, sky ominous, bullets whizzing by and explosions in the water.

Chuck stared at the sight and then slowly turned to Casey. "Casey…this is the Invasion of Normandy."

Casey nodded his head eagerly. "I _know_."

Chuck turned back to watch the video some more, wincing at the destruction and death. This went on for almost a minute.

Then suddenly the images on the screen transitioned into a sequence of several nuclear explosions and the subsequent damage the atomic explosions wreaked on their immediate areas.

"And this is what we think Walker will be like while pregnant."

The video continued, even more nuclear destruction raining down upon the world. Then, abruptly, the real life footage of war was replaced by a rapidly changing sequence of clips from _Independence Day_ (the destruction of the White House), _Mad Max_ (the chase down the highway), _Terminator 2_ (the nuclear destruction of Los Angeles), and finally ending on a clip of Zach Snyder's remake of _Dawn of the Dead_, as zombies raged and destroyed the city of Milwaukee.

Chuck again turned to Casey in disbelief. "What? Zombies?"

Casey grunted and there was a small grin on his face. "Heh, yeah, I thought that was a nice touch." Casey perched on the edge of his seat in excitement. "Wait, here comes the best part!" He pointed at the screen as all at once, every frothing at the mouth zombie acquired a superimposed image of Sarah's face over their heads. Casey started laughing hard. "I put that in special."

"Casey, come on…Sarah being pregnant is not going to bring about the zombie apocalypse."

Casey turned and grabbed his shirt again, eyes wide and full of panic. "How do you know, Chuck?" Casey shook him like a rag doll. "HOW DO YOU KNOW!?"

Chuck somehow managed to extricate himself from Casey's grip. He adjusted his clothes and tried not to appear as flustered as he was. "Come on, Casey, you're being ridiculous." He was finally starting to feel a little unsure about things. "It's not going to be like that."

He gulped and asked worriedly, "Is it?"

* * *

**Three months**

Sarah jabbed the heavy bag once, twice, three times. Every turn of her hips felt like she was moving through water, every kick like her legs were weighted down by sandbags.

Working out had become a chore more than a physical release. Being pregnant really sucked. And she hadn't even gotten to the really hard part yet.

She had finally started to show to such an extent that it couldn't be hidden anymore by her current wardrobe. That had frustrated and annoyed her enough. But when she started having trouble doing the most basic of activities that were effortless before her pregnancy, she had really started to get angry.

Perhaps worst of all was that after the end of the month, she would be taken off active duty. That meant she'd no longer be able to go on missions period, she couldn't even ride along in the surveillance van. The temptation to get out of the van would be too great, or so Chuck claimed. He was probably right, but that didn't mean she had to like it.

If Chuck was in danger there was no way she'd be able to sit idly by and do nothing. Not if it meant saving Chuck, pregnancy or no. Despite her pregnancy and her eventual marriage, her primary goal would always be Chuck's safety. She would do anything to keep him safe because she couldn't imagine her life any longer without him in it. She didn't want to, didn't think she could survive it if it happened.

She'd still have their child, of course, a child she not-so secretly hoped was a beautiful baby boy that looked just like his father. But it wouldn't be the same and she needed Chuck to raise that little boy. She would be a terrible mother without Chuck there to help.

She twisted her hips to send a powerful roundhouse kick into the heavy bag and came away slightly winded and sore. She was breathing heavily and sweat was covering her face and dampening her hair. A few more weeks and she wouldn't even be able to do that anymore. It probably wasn't smart for her to even be doing it now but she wanted to hold onto as many aspects of her pre-pregnancy life as she could.

Fortunately, Chuck was still plowing her regularly, maybe not as much as she would like, but it was still happening. She didn't know how much longer it would last though as he had already started to float the idea of cutting back due to the baby. Add that to the fact that every day she found it harder and harder to control the urge to kill anyone and everyone she saw, and she figured it was only inevitable before she went over her weekly limit, which would mean no sex anyway. It was not looking good for her.

"You remind me of what would happen if an Oompa loompa had sex with a penguin," a voice said from behind her.

She immediately stopped, her whole body tensing. She wrapped her arms around the heavy bag, stilling it, and tried to control her breathing. It was hard as she could feel the rage bubbling inside of her.

The voice continued, "You're an oompguin."

"Fuck off, Casey," she snarled. She still hadn't turned around, wasn't sure what would happen if she did. So far, she'd managed to avoid killing Casey since that fateful day she decided to start taking matters into her own hands and lay permanent claim to Chuck, but this pregnancy would certainly be a trying time for their partnership.

"Seriously, have you looked at a mirror? You're so red and orange that if I didn't know any better, I'd think you were dropping your Bartowski spawn right now."

Sarah pushed away from the heavy bag and turned around to face Casey. Normally she only wore workout pants and a sports bra, but she couldn't do that anymore. She was wearing an old pair of Chuck's sweats and one of his t-shirts and that was the only thing that made not being able to wear her own clothes bearable.

She placed her gloved hands on her hips and glared at Casey menacingly. "What did you say about my baby, Casey?"

Casey blinked and abruptly stepped behind a column, only peeking his head around the concrete pillar. "Um…I said nothing. Nothing at all." Casey nodded his head to further support his denial.

Sarah just grunted and began to take off her gloves. She was not convinced. "And I am not fat."

Casey snorted and appeared to rediscover his balls as he stepped away from the column. "Not yet, at least. Though I may have to recommend to the General soon that you no longer be allowed to handle the dipstick's dipstick for fear of the Intersect being crushed to death."

"You wouldn't dare," Sarah hissed.

Casey shrugged his shoulders. "It's my job to protect him. Gotta keep him safe, though he could probably still flash even with a crushed pelvis."

Sarah dropped her gloves to the ground and started to look around the workout room for any sharp object she could use to stab Casey with. "You asshole, I'm not that fat!"

"Uh-oh, looks like the hormones are kicking in, I better run," Casey said drily. He sat down on a chair and looked unconcerned.

Casey sitting down was unexpected and she looked at him in confusion. "What are you doing?"

"Oh, I'm giving you a head start," Casey said and then smirked. "I figure you'll need it if you have any hope of catching me with your waddle."

Sarah leaned down somewhat awkwardly and picked up her gloves from the floor. She threw them at Casey as hard as she could and then started to run after him. When she got her hands on him…

Casey sprung up out of his chair, eyes wide, and only managed to dodge one of the flying gloves. He started to scurry away, yelling over his shoulder, "Earthquake! Quick, get to a doorway!"

Sarah watched Casey's retreating back and listened to him laugh. "I'm going to kill you, John Casey!"

"Not if I get to your boyfriend first," Casey boasted and he actually slowed down. "Chuck will protect me!"

Sarah ran past the table where she had put her usual sheath of throwing knives while she worked out, slowed down just long enough to slip a knife free, then took off back after Casey. She waited until they were both moving down a long hallway, took aim, and threw.

She grinned in feral triumph as the knife landed true.

Casey yelped loudly in pain and went tumbling to the ground. Sarah slowed down; sweat was pouring down her forehead and she was breathing hard.

"Are you insane!?" Casey bellowed, looking over his shoulder at her. "You nailed me in the ass!"

She put her foot on Casey's lower back and leaned down to pluck the throwing knife free from Casey's backside. "Huh," she said contemplatively, "that sounds so much different when you say it then when I say it to Chuck."

Casey paled and groaned loudly. "Oh why? Why did you have to say that? Why couldn't you have just killed me?"

Sarah just grinned. "Still think I'm fat now?"

* * *

**What's next** - _Four months_: Sarah gets a craving and goes to the grocery store.


	4. Four Months

**Author's Note:** Well...yeah. It's only been like four months. That's not too long, right? Haha. Anyway, sorry for the delay, folks. I'm doing what I can to update when I can. I'm updating this story now because I made a promise to the lovely, brilliant, super talented, freakishly awesome **Frea O'Scanlin** (seriously, she makes me SO jealous as a writer) that I would update this story by May 19th and with roughly about 45 minutes left, I'm just under the deadline!

Thanks must go to **Wepdiggy** for all his help. He basically held my hand and told me this chapter was okay and that it was funny and that I had nothing to worry about. When there's a four month break in updates, sometimes you wonder if you still got it, you know? Anyway, this chapter is finished, thanks in large part to him. Oh, and of course, thanks also have to go to my favorite Canadian. Just because.

**Warning:** Little more violence than you might be used to in an AP story, but well...

* * *

Casey pressed pause and one of the rampaging Sarah zombies was stopped mid chomp on some poor guy's arm. Casey turned to Chuck with a serious expression on his face, most of his jocularity gone.

"Truthfully, nobody is really sure what's going to happen," Casey said. He leaned back into his chair and sighed. He ran a big paw wearily across his face.

Chuck tried to stay positive by planting a false smile on his face and looking at ease, but it wasn't really working. Casey's increasingly growing pile of evidence that Sarah was a walking disaster made a positive attitude near impossible. Still, it wasn't in him to give up so easily, especially not when Sarah's honor was at stake. "Have you considered the possibility that she'll be just a normal pregnant woman, and not the coming of the end of days?"

Casey shook his head. "We determined that the odds of Walker having a normal pregnancy were so statistically negligible as to not even be worth considering."

"Who is this 'we'?"

Casey chuckled and finished off the last of his bottle of scotch. Chuck figured he had to be well and truly smashed at this point. "Originally it was just me," Casey said, a faraway look in his cloudy, slightly red-rimmed eyes. "But as it became increasingly obvious how insane Walker was and that there was no hope of keeping the things she did secret, a joint DNI-DHS-FEMA task force was created to do what was necessary to keep Walker's nymphomaniac ass out of prison."

"Why?" Chuck was appalled at the idea that there was actually a government task force whose sole responsibility was monitoring his girlfriend's activities. Sarah didn't deserve that. Surely if Sarah was such a threat to the general public, the government, her overlords, would have done something about her by now, but they hadn't. So obviously everybody was just overreacting. He knew Sarah had her problems, but there was no way she was as bad as _that_.

"Because, moron, you become a whiny little bitch if Walker isn't around to hold your hand. And the government determined that using you to stop terrorists from setting off a nuclear bomb in Los Angeles, outweighs the occasional collateral damage that follows Walker's ass around like a piece of toilet paper stuck to her shoe."

"Casey," Chuck said in a warning tone. He didn't know what exactly he planned to do if Casey continued to get belligerent, but he couldn't just let Casey say this stuff about Sarah.

"Oh knock it off, Bartowski, you know I'm right." Casey leaned forward and poked Chuck hard in the chest. "Deep down, you're terrified of her being pregnant. Hell, if I were you, I'd be worried she'll snap and kill me in my sleep."

Chuck shook his head emphatically. "Sarah would never hurt me. Ever."

Casey blinked, tapped his fingers along the side of his head, and mumbled to himself. Louder, he said, "You're right, you're right. She's far more likely to try and fuck you in your sleep than kill you."

Chuck flushed at Casey's statement. If Casey only knew how true his words were…he'd probably never hear the end of it.

"Sarah would never do that either," he said lamely.

Casey just snorted and stared at his empty bottle.

"Fine," Chuck said with a huff. "She'd never do that _again_."

"After she fell off that last time?"

"Yeeeeah," Chuck said with a drawl. He meekly avoided Casey's eyes. "That."

Casey grunted and peered into his bottle, one eye clouded and bug-like. "We need to discuss contingency plans."

Chuck paled a little and squeaked out, "You have contingency plans for Sarah being pregnant?"

"We're the government, Chuck, we plan for _everything_. Someday, I'll," Casey hiccupped and then continued like it hadn't happened, "tell you about our plans for when the zombies fight Mothra over the Hellmouth in Cleveland."

"The whaaa-huh? Hellmouth!"

Casey stilled for a moment, his eyes going cross-eyed, before he frowned. "Damn it, I don't want to go to Cleveland!" Casey casually flicked the empty bottle over his shoulder and it hit the wall with a dull thud, and then clattered to the ground.

"But I just…" Chuck floundered about, looking for something to say. "I just don't understand," he finished dejectedly.

Casey focused back on him, or at least was as focused as Casey could currently get. "The task force had to be prepared for any eventuality, Chuck. I think it's time we activate Walker Protocol 37."

**

* * *

**

**Four Months**

Sarah was hungry. This was not unusual. She was always hungry these days. It was damn annoying. She was used to being in tip-top shape, a well trained, painstakingly formed killing machine. There were people in the world that needed killing—mostly skanky brunettes trying to steal _her_ Chuck, but she didn't really discriminate—and she was perfectly happy to be the one to kill them.

The only problem was that, well, she was no longer a well trained, painstakingly formed killing machine.

She was soft now. Her ass was fat, her arms were fat, her belly was fat, her thighs were fat. She was basically just fat. A walking marshmallow. About the only part of her that she didn't mind growing—her breasts—had been decidedly lonely and unloved the last few weeks. Stupid hormones were making it impossible to control her urge to kill and she had been on near perpetual sex-out since she'd nailed Casey in the ass with her throwing knife.

Chuck really needed to get over his pesky aversion to indiscriminate killing and just plow her already. Didn't he realize that by depriving her of sex, he was merely making her desire to kill even worse? How else was she supposed to deal with her sexual frustration?

One of the ways she was coping was by stuffing her face. Unfortunately, not with the kind of meat she preferred, but still, eating was helping to take a little of the edge off. And being pregnant afforded her an excuse she never would have allowed herself to use before she got knocked up. She hadn't been this careless with her diet since, well, ever.

She was eating chocolate (she always had a craving for Reese's Pieces), fried chicken, fried steak, fried ice cream, fried eggs, basically anything fried, celery dipped in peanut butter, and pickles. Always pickles. She couldn't eat enough of them. But not those sweet, chip-like pickles, no, she only ate the classic dill pickles. The fact that they were conveniently shaped like one of her favorite things in the world only had a small influence on her craving them. She was always sending Chuck to the grocery store for more pickles. She loved pickles.

Which explained why she was currently waddling—God, she was such a whale, no wonder Chuck wasn't boinking (no, not that, boinking made her think of oink, which made her think of pigs, which made her realize yet again how incredibly fat she was), banging her—down the pickle aisle of her neighborhood grocery store. Normally, she'd have sent Chuck out on one of her food runs, but he was currently on a stakeout of a suspected Ring operative and couldn't be reached.

That was another reason why she ate so much. Her Chuck was still going on missions. Without her. The idea terrified her and drove her crazy with worry. She needed Chuck. She needed him to be her husband, to be a father, to just…be there. The thought of losing him stressed her out like nothing ever had before. And so she ate even more. She ate pickles.

She missed Chuck. Mostly, she missed having sex with him. She thought about surprising him later that night and making him screw her. She needed him and he was being cruel to the mother of his child by denying her. She smiled happily to herself. That was definitely the right path to take. Chuck was soft. If she made him feel enough guilt, he'd probably cave.

Of course, it was hard to pull off sexy in her current condition, but with enough preparation, she could make even her marshmallow of a body look good. She looked down at her slightly rounded, distended stomach and frowned. She rubbed her belly slowly and silently hoped that her unborn child would someday cure cancer or perfect cloning (two Chucks? Definitely a fantasy she'd had more than once), to make up for all it was costing her.

She yawned and continued her shuffle down the aisle. She was in a pair of Chuck's sweats, as none of her own pants fit anymore, which was just heartbreakingly depressing. She was barely four months along! Why was she such a damn blimp? She'd become increasingly self-conscious since the incident with Casey in Castle. She wasn't that orange, damn it, she didn't know why he insisted on calling her an oompquin. She blamed her increased emotional vulnerability on the hormones.

She was blaming a lot on the hormones these days. Just last night she had cried during _Serenity_. She hadn't cried because Book had died or when Wash met his sudden end. No, she had cried during River's fight in the bar. When Chuck had asked her why she was crying, she had looked at him with all the sudden despair she felt in her eyes and sniffled out, "I remember when I used to be able to do that." And then Chuck had kissed her and massaged her feet for the rest of the movie and she had forgotten just about everything beside how desperately she wanted him to fuck her into next week.

But he said no. And so she ate pickles. She ate a whole jar. Which was why she needed more.

Except, as she saw with rapidly growing horror, the shelf where the pickles should be was empty. The grocery store was out of pickles? How can a _grocery_ store be out of pickles!

She growled. She needed her comfort food, damn it!

To her relief, a prowling store employee was making his way down the aisle toward her. She spun on him with a fierce glare and barked out, "You there! Where are your pickles?"

The clerk pulled up short beside her and peered around her bulk. "Uh…they're right there, ma'am." His tone made it clear that he thought her a bit stupid.

Anger flared inside of her, her self-control already on the brink of slipping away. The last thing she needed was a pimply, overweight, awkward looking—she could practically smell the virgin off him—acting like she was too stupid to see the jars of pickles in front of her. "No! Not the chip pickles! Where are the pickles shaped like my fiancé's—"

The clerk's eyes widened and he interrupted her, "I don't know, ma'am. If they're not here, then we must not have any." He was blushing. She snorted to herself. Yeah, definitely a virgin.

She demanded an explanation: "How can you be out of pickles? It's a grocery store! There should be pickles! It's like McDonalds running out of hamburgers!" She didn't care that she was now ranting or that the boy was quite clearly afraid of her. "God, this is worse than that one time The Large Mart ran out of condoms."

Sarah suddenly went silent, and adopted a contemplative look. A smile slowly blossomed on her face as she automatically began thinking of that night. "Though Chuck going bareback sure was great. Mmmmm," she moaned slightly, her mind reliving the experience of Chuck pressed against her, their burning skin, Chuck thrusting into her... She could feel her whole body flush. God, she was so horny.

Stupid pregnancy.

"I'm sorry, ma'am. I don't…" The boy looked at her, his body turned half away from her, obviously on the verge of making a run for it. "Can I go now?" he asked in a quiet voice.

"No! Find me your manager," Sarah said. Her voice was low and deadly. It was usually the tone of voice she employed when she was on the verge of carving some damn slutty brunette for eyeing Chuck.

The clerk nodded his head vigorously and took off at a run. She watched him go until he was out of sight. She turned back to glare at the counters. She waited.

For two minutes.

After two minutes, her feet started to get sore from standing in place and she was bored, hangry, and horny. She needed her pickles so she could go home and indulge herself.

She went off in search of somebody with a little more authority, somebody who could solve her pickle crisis; because if somebody didn't give her a pickle soon, she couldn't be held responsible for her actions.

She found who she was looking for in one of the frozen food aisles, standing in front of the frozen pizzas. He was dressed business casual, papers in his hand, and could have easily been a browsing customer, but something about him just screamed "Management" to her.

She stalked up to him as fast as her waddling gait would allow. He must have seen her reflected off the glass of the doors for he turned around, a friendly smile on his face. She wasn't fooled. She'd been a spy long enough to spot a fake smile when she saw one. "Can I help you with anything?" Then his eyes moved up and down her body, lingering on her chest.

She rolled her eyes. This was not what she had in mind when she wanted somebody to pay more attention to her breasts.

"I need some pickles."

The man blinked and finally stopped staring at her chest long enough to stare at her face stupidly instead. "Pickles are on Aisle 4, ma'am."

"I know. I was just there. There were no pickles."

"I find that a little impossible, ma'am. We always have pickles."

"Well, not right now and I swear, if I don't get a pickle to eat soon, I'm going to cut somebody."

"Ma'am, there's no need to get upset—"

Sarah pulled a knife out of her purse and it popped open with a sharp snap. The man's eyes widened and he took an automatic step backward. "Uh, ma'am, now hold on. Let's not get crazy. There's some pretzels you can buy on Aisle 5."

"Pickles, not pretzels! Believe me, if it wasn't for my Chuck, I'd be snacking on an Aussie pretzel right now, but I gave that up years ago. Now where's your pickles!"

The man continued to slowly retreat, hands up in front of him as if he was trying to ward her off. "Jesus, I don't even want to know what idiot was crazy enough to knock you up, but if you don't leave right now, I'm going to call the police."

Like everything else in her life, the Great West Hollywood Ralphs Massacre of 2011, occurred because of Chuck.

She could usually handle—in small doses—somebody being a jackass and insulting her, but nobody said anything bad about her Chuck in front of her and lived for very much longer.

To her surprise, she could still move almost as fast and as gracefully as she could pre-pregnancy when she really needed to accomplish something.

With three long strides, she reached the man and punched him solidly in the nose. As he was dazed by the blow, she wrenched one arm behind his back. He let out another yelp of pain, but she was already turning her hips to build up enough torque to ram the man's head into the nearest freezer door. The glass didn't break on the first slam, so of course she had to repeat the motion. On the second slam, there was a dull crack and the man's head was buried in an avalanche of microwavable lasagna dinners. His body went limp and she let go.

She stared at the man and kicked his ankle. "Should have just gotten me my pickles. Assmunch."

# # # # #

She hunkered down behind the fruit stand as another tomato impacted against the wooden structure. She was really starting to get pissed off.

She didn't know who the hell the woman was that had tried to jump her—martial arts enthusiast, commando, off-duty cop?—but whoever she was, she was damn annoying. She was also frustratingly good. In her current condition, as badass as she knew she was, she might be evenly matched by the skinny bitch currently lobbing whatever random fruit she could grab at her.

"Would you cut it out? I'm pregnant, you know!"

"You're a crazy bitch!"

A torrent of tomatoes started landing around her like falling mortars. That was it, she'd had enough. She got into a crouch, picked up a cantaloupe, and hurled it in the direction of the hiding woman. Her aim was off, but at least the rain of tomatoes stopped.

She stood up in celebration of her mini victory when an apple hit her solidly in the middle of her chest. She staggered back a step to see the other woman standing up as well, apple in her right hand. She had a haughty look on her face that Sarah desperately wanted to wipe off.

"How do you like 'dem apples?"

Sarah had to duck as another apple came careening her way. She had had enough of this. She was missing valuable pickle eating time. Not to mention the time it would take to get ready for her planned seduction of Chuck.

She reached for her ankle holster and pulled out a throwing knife (she had lost the knife she used to frighten the manager when she'd had to fend off one of the butchers coming at her with a cleaver. Her knife was probably now stuck somewhere inside the butcher's guts. Poetic justice, she figured).

Slipping the throwing knife free, she popped up suddenly like a jack-in-the-box, knife flying through the air. It landed with a meaty whack as the knife embedded in the woman's arm. Sarah grinned as she stomped over to the woman and loomed over her in triumph.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" the woman asked, voice obviously strained. A small pool of blood started to form under her wounded arm. "Why are you doing this?"

Instead of responding, Sarah eyed the pyramid of apples to her left. She wondered how heavy the apple cart was. She was angry enough, she could probably manage it. She moved away from the supine woman, pushed against the apple pyramid, and apples began falling down on the woman like an exploding cluster bomb. As the base of the pyramid became unstable, the apples avalanched until the woman was more apples than person. Then she dumped the now empty cart on top of the woman, apples squishing.

"Applesauce, bitch."

She picked up an apple from the ground and took a bite. It was no pickle, but it'd do for the moment.

# # # # #

"Can't you read? What the fuck is wrong with you?"

She smashed the man's face again into the moving conveyor belt.

"The sign clearly says '15 Items or Less'!"

# # # # #

She picked up the can of Mushroom Soup and bounced it in her hand a few times, getting a feel for the weight. She watched as the young clerk, the one she had sent in search of a manager, ran down the store-spanning aisle, trying to get away from her.

She aimed carefully, cocked her arm back, and let go. The can sailed through the air, hitting the clerk directly in the back of the neck. He crumpled into a heap of still moving bones and limbs, his body sliding across the gleaming floor until he crashed into the pharmacy counter.

She ambled over to the unconscious clerk and contemplated what she should do with him. She kicked him a few times in the ribs. He groaned but didn't wake up.

She shrugged, gave him one last kick, and then walked away in search of some rope. She found it with the other home items. It was not very long and not very thick, but she figured the white nylon rope would suit her purposes just fine.

She made a noose and wrapped it around the clerk's neck, tightening it. She dragged him over to the front of the store where one of those big machines they use to move shopping carts was waiting. It was like the grocery store equivalent of a Zamboni machine and she'd always wanted to ride one. She tied the other end of the rope to the machine and then climbed into the driver's position. She leaned over and fiddled with the machine's guts for a minute and then turned it on. The thing came to life with a hum.

She looked over her shoulder at the clerk. His eyes fluttered open and he stared up at her in horror. She just clucked her tongue in disapproval. "Any last words before I take you on the ride of your life?" She tried to make herself friendly and inviting, but it was probably hard to pull off, what with the blood splattered all over her clothes and face. "Hint, if you tell me where the pickles are, you won't be sorry."

"You're a crazy bitch!"

"Why does everybody keep calling me that?" She glared at the clerk. "Do you have any idea how difficult it is to go without sex for two weeks, and then not even be able to eat your favorite comfort food?" She shook her head. "No, of course not. Pity."

She grabbed the steering mechanism and began zooming down the aisles, the clerk dragging along behind her. She whistled happily to herself and thought of sexing up Chuck.

# # # # #

She stepped off the machine and said, "Not as good as Chuck, but still quite a ride."

She turned back to survey the damage she had wrought and smiled in satisfaction. The Ralphs looked like a bomb had gone off inside. Or that it had been ransacked by a ravenous mob of zombies. Shelves were toppled, bodies randomly strewn across the floor, some in grotesque, unnatural shapes, broken signs hung from single chains, check lane lights blinked on and off, there was even a small fire going in the barbecue section. Those charcoal briquettes had come in handy.

She heard the sirens in the distance and knew that it was time to get the hell out of the store. She could only hope that she could get home before Chuck. She needed to shower and she needed to make sure he didn't watch the news until after she convinced him to plow her.

All she had wanted was some pickles. That's all. There was no need for them to be difficult. No need to try her already frayed patience. She couldn't help herself. They should have known better than to get between a pregnant woman, a pregnant _her_, and the food she craved.

This was probably some of her best work.

She passed a woman stuffed in one of the warming stations of the deli and headed toward the door.

That was when she noticed the jar, just lying haphazardly on the floor. She gasped and rushed over to it as fast as her shuffling gait would allow.

She felt tears slide down her cheeks as she held the jar of pickles reverently in her arms.

She hurriedly unscrewed the top and fished out a long, slender pickle. She sucked on the end of it slightly and let out a moan. And then she took a big bite, feeling the briny juices flood down her throat. Perfection.

She left the store then, eyes partly closed in rapture as she ate her victory pickle.

Thank God. Her trip to the store hadn't been a total waste after all.

* * *

Next time: Sarah and Chuck visit the doctor and learn the baby's sex.


	5. Five months

**Author's Note**: So I'm not really sure why I dusted this story off. Okay, that's not entirely true. There was at least one reason, and that reason was that on Tuesday, a very momentous thing happened: the **Adorable Psycho** turned one year old. I know, crazy, right? I really did mean to have this done on Tuesday, but the ending was just being a huge pain and I missed the deadline. At least I finished during the birthday week. So here it is, in honor of AP, the next chapter.

**Warning**: This is, I think, the worst chapter of this story so far. Somewhat fittingly, it's also the longest chapter of this story so far. I'm thinking there's a connection there. I guess it's not surprising, since it's been like six months since I updated, and I've lost the flow of the story, but still. I just wasn't feeling it, and the ending is really pretty lame. But at least it's done and I now have only half of the chapters left before this story is finished. I hope you enjoy!

* * *

Casey focused back on him, or at least was as focused as Casey could currently get. "The task force had to be prepared for any eventuality, Chuck. I think it's time we activate Walker Protocol 37."

Chuck stared at Casey blankly for several seconds, his mind still trying to catch up to all the insane information that Casey was telling him. Mothra? Government task force created just for Sarah? Hellmouth? Cleveland! None of it made any sense. And he still resented the fact that the pregnant love of his life was being compared to a ravenous zombie horde.

So he waited for Casey to further explain himself. After a slightly awkward wait, of Chuck staring at Casey and Casey doing nothing but muttering unintelligibly under his breath, Chuck narrowed his eyes and asked pointedly, "Casey, what's Walker Protocol 37?"

Casey took a deep breath and said seriously, "Walker Protocol 37 is one of the contingency plans the special task force came up with in case Walker got pregnant and you lost control of the situation." Casey cocked his head to the side and added in an amused tone, "Which, come to think of it, was inevitable, so I don't know why we ever thought you could have controlled your psycho girlfriend."

Chuck rolled his eyes and relaxed a little. "I haven't lost control of the situation! Geez, Casey, she hasn't even been pregnant more than a month and you're acting like she's already destroyed half the city."

"Yet. She hasn't destroyed half the city _yet_."

"Be reasonable, Casey."

Casey suddenly lunged forward and grabbed two fistfuls of Chuck's shirt. "Reasonable! I'm not the one who knocked up the craziest woman this side of the Mississippi!" Casey suddenly let him go, arms folded in front of his chest, almost like he was pouting. He mumbled, "Still saner than Nancy Pelosi, though."

"I'm not going to get into yet another argument with you over Sarah's sanity, okay? Regardless of what you think is going to happen, that's no reason to call out the National Guard."

Casey was silent. The other man wouldn't even look at him.

"Right, Casey?"

Casey opened his mouth, then closed it, and then scowled.

"Casey, please tell me that your contingency plans don't actually call for the National Guard."

"Well, who's going to maintain order when the governor declares a state of emergency and institutes martial law?"

"Ban her from Castle. Order her to stay home. Suspend her. All of those have got to be better options."

Casey laughed and it was a loud and harsh sound. "Ban her from Castle?" He laughed some more. Chuck didn't understand what was so funny. "The woman once nearly decapitated a brunette with some fishing line and a ping-pong paddle." Casey shook his head and sobered. There almost seemed to be a hint of pride in his next words. "Walker's a regular virtuoso of death, Bartowski. Keeping her away from weapons isn't going to make a difference."

"Well, then what do you suggest? I don't want Sarah to know about this!"

"Look, Bartowski, as much as it pains me to say this, there's only one thing Walker cares about more than killin' folks."

"Me."

"That's right. For some reason, your scrawny ass is like some kind of cat nip to her. Use that to your advantage."

"I can't believe you're actually encouraging me to get laid."

"I can't believe it either. Must be the alcohol." Casey stopped and the same look of fear that had been on his face when Chuck first told him about Sarah being pregnant reappeared. "Either that or the world's impending doom."

* * *

**Five months...**

Dr. Cara Mason was young, blonde, and far too pretty in Sarah's estimation, but Ellie had said she was one of the best OB/GYNs in the city, and so Sarah resisted her normal impulse to maim and kill the young doctor whenever she smiled at Chuck, which seemed, in her mind, to be very frequently. It had not been easy, especially with all the pregnancy hormones raging through her body like a barbarian horde. At least the friendly doctor wasn't a brunette. Sarah wasn't sure she'd have been able to restrain herself otherwise.

Fortunately enough, Sarah could admit, the other woman certainly seemed competent enough. And that was good, because Sarah Walker would accept nothing less for Chuck's child.

"Do you have any questions before we get started?"

Sarah nodded her head vigorously and reached into her purse.

She felt Chuck immediately tense up beside her and utter a low rumbling of her name that sent shivers of arousal down her spine as he questioned what she was doing. God, if they weren't in the middle of her ultrasound, she'd demand he take her right there on the exam chair. She was just so damn horny all the time, it was beyond frustrating.

Still, she could understand Chuck's apprehension and worry, even if it was completely unfounded, at least in this instance. Her hand reaching into her purse usually was her opening move in dispatching an annoying skank, as she kept all manner of weapons inside of it (switch blade, her S&W, a small hatchet, a small hacksaw—actually, basically any small death-dealing device. One of her favorites was a vial of fire ants that she'd stolen from the Los Angeles zoo during a mission, and she was saving that one for an especially satisfying kill, like Jill Roberts, wherever the duplicitous bitch may be). But he had nothing to worry about this time, because despite the doctor's ridiculous attractiveness, she had no intention of killing the blonde.

Yet.

The doctor was still useful to her. For instance, she could finally settle a very important argument.

She pulled the small digital recorder out of her purse, giving Chuck a look that said, "How dare you doubt me, I'm perfectly sane," and started it recording. "I have a question, Dr. Mason. Would you say that I am fat?"

Dr. Mason blinked and Sarah watched with narrowed eyes as the doctor briefly looked at Chuck. She was willing to cut the pretty doctor a lot more slack than usual, but she still wouldn't stand for her making eyes at her man. "Uh, well, Miss Walker, as you know, when women become pregnant, they put on weight. It's important—"

Sarah cut the doctor off. "Yeah, yeah, I know all that. But would you say that I'm exceedingly fat? Like worse than a normal woman at this point in her pregnancy?"

Dr. Mason straightened slightly. "Actually, no, I'd say that you are one of the most in-shape patients I've ever had. You certainly chart in the top 10% of women in their second trimester."

Sarah grinned wide and picked up the recorder, bringing it right up to her mouth. "Ha! What do you think of that, Casey? You can take your Oompquin bullshit and shove it up your ass!"

"Sarah?"

"I'm proving that I'm not fat! The doctor even said so." Then she focused on the recorder again. "You hear that, Casey? I've got proof!"

"Okay, but the recorder?"

She loved her Chuck but he could be so dense sometimes. "It's not like he'd just take my word for it." Then she shook her head and hoped that her son had more of her common sense. How did he not realize what she was doing? It was as plain as day.

She continued speaking into the recorder, "Even the doctor thinks I'm still hot."

"Hey, now wait a second, that's not what I said," Dr. Mason protested.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Chuck frantically motioning with his hands for the doctor to shut up. Dr. Mason abruptly shut her mouth and Chuck sighed in relief, but Sarah was already glaring at the doctor. What the hell was her problem? Why couldn't she just back her up?

Chuck's hand suddenly landed on the back of her neck and she immediately became distracted, her attention on nothing but the way Chuck's fingers sliding against her skin relaxed her.

She seriously needed sex. And she needed it right now. In the worst way. She was horny enough on a normal day to want it several times, but now, with the pregnancy hormones, even the slightest touch from Chuck was enough to make her practically vibrate with need. Maybe she could convince the doctor to give them a little privacy? She wasn't above putting on a show if the doctor was into that kind of thing, as long as she wasn't looking at Chuck, of course. But she tended to get loud and she might need the doctor to stand guard and prevent anybody from interrupting them.

"Yes, well, quite, okay," Dr. Mason spluttered and obviously tried to compose herself. "If you have no more questions, hopefully _medical_ questions, then we can get started."

She really didn't like Dr. Mason's attitude. There was no reason for the doctor to act like what she had said was so unreasonable. She knew she was hot. Okay, most of the time she thought she was fatter than a marshmallow and only Chuck sexing her up could make her feel better, but today was one of her rare good days (finally getting confirmation that she was having a boy was filling her with so much happiness), so it didn't make much sense to her why the doctor couldn't have just admitted the truth. It vexed her. She hated when she was vexed, and she didn't have sex on the near horizon to make up for it.

Wait. Sex!

"Actually, Doctor, I did have one more question." She could feel Chuck's eyes on her and nearly smirked. "It's bad for the baby for me to be stressed, right?"

"Uh, that is correct. You'll want to avoid intensely stressful situations as much as possible over the remaining months of your pregnancy."

"Sarah, what are you doing?" Chuck asked in a warning tone. She could tell that Chuck had probably clued into what she was about to say, but she didn't care.

She just ignored him and focused all her attention on the doctor. "I'm so happy to hear you say that. Maybe you could tell my fiancé that he needs to plow me more often then, and to stop holding out on me like a whiney teenage girl."

"Sarah!" Chuck hissed.

Dr. Mason just looked confused. "I'm sorry, did you say plow?"

"Yes, plow." Sarah waited for the recognition to appear in the other woman's eyes, but she got nothing. And this woman was supposed to be her doctor? "As in mating, screwing, stuffing the turkey, bumping uglies—though I've never really understood that one as I'm freaking hot and so is my Chuck—humping, doing it, banging, _fucking_?"

Dr. Mason just stared at her with a vaguely horrified look on her face. Chuck had his face buried in his hands.

Sarah shook her head in disgust. "Christ, I thought you were a baby doctor. How do you not know about sex?"

The other woman finally seemed to recover from her shock and gave her a strained smile. "Ah yes, that. I assure you I'm well aware of the subject, I've just never had a patient describe it in such a…unique and colorful manner before."

Chuck chuckled weakly and said in a strained voice, "That's my Sarah. She's certainly one of a kind."

Sarah smiled wide at Chuck's words before she quickly focused back on the doctor. "Good, then perhaps you can talk some sense into him. I need more sex. What he's giving me just isn't enough and it's stressing me out."

"Uh…"

"So maybe you can write me a prescription?"

"A prescription for sex?"

"Yes, that's right. I mean, if you prescribe it to me, he has to do it, right?"

"Sarah…"

"Not now, Chuck, I'm talking to the doctor."

"Look, Miss Walker, I understand you're frustrated, but what you're asking—"

Chuck sighed and said pleadingly, "Would you please just write her something?"

Dr. Mason grumbled under her breath as she pulled a prescription pad from her doctor's coat. The woman scribbled a few words on it and then tore off the sheet and handed it to her. She grabbed it eagerly and quickly read what it said. While most of what was written was illegible, what she could read pissed her off. "Five times a week? What the hell? I get that already."

Dr. Mason held out her hand insistently with a roll of her eyes and Sarah gave her back the page. The doctor again scribbled on the page and then handed it back. Sarah read over it again, this time grinning. "Twice a day? So much better. Thanks, doc!"

"I'm going to die," Chuck moaned quietly.

Sarah ignored Chuck's comment. He always complained about her sexual appetite, and yet at the end of the day, he always found it in him to keep up with her. That was one of the reasons why she loved him so much. "You know what this means, right? I'm pretty sure there is a clause in the contract that nullifies it in case of a medical emergency. I think this qualifies." She waved the piece of prescription paper in front of Chuck's face. "Look, I even have a doctor's note!"

"This is _not_ a medical emergency," Chuck said rather vehemently.

Sarah turned her head to look at Chuck. She stuck her bottom lip out in a pout and said in a pitiful voice, "But, Chuuuuuck, I need more orgasms. Stop being mean to me!"

Dr. Mason cleared her throat and both Chuck and Sarah turned to look at her. "Perhaps you two would like to be alone right now?"

Hell yes, Sarah would. She started to nod her head and was about to tell the doctor to make herself scarce when Chuck beat her to the punch. "That's alright, Doctor. We'll do the ultrasound now," and then Chuck was looking at her, "and continue our conversation later."

Sarah wanted to protest but something in Chuck's eyes made her pause. Fine. She was willing to wait. She did have the prescription, so it wasn't like he could deny her anyway. She would have to make sure she got it framed to hang above their bed and make a laminated copy to carry around with her in purse. She often got horny away from home and now Chuck wouldn't have any excuse not to pull over to the side of the road and screw her in the backseat whenever she got the urge.

After all, it was doctor's orders.

Dr. Mason let out a sigh of relief and then turned around to ready her machines. "Okay, so if you would just please lift up your shirt, we will get started."

Chuck reached over and together they both pulled her loose fitting shirt over her growing belly. This wasn't their first ultrasound, but they had finally agreed to learn what the baby's sex was. Sarah was so confident that it was going to be a boy that she considered this visit mostly a waste of time, but Chuck had insisted, and since she didn't want him to get all pouty on her, she had agreed to go.

She couldn't deny that she wasn't at least a little excited. As much as she knew it was going to be a boy, finally getting confirmation would be fantastic.

She could just see her son now: a little boy with curly brown hair, beautiful brown eyes, and his father's kind and caring attitude. She'd already decided that they would name him Chuck, after his father. She could think of no more perfect name than that.

And then after Chuck Jr. was born, a year or two down the road, she'd talk Chuck into having another baby. It was her insurance plan, and she needed to make sure she regularly paid in.

Chuck squeezed her hand and she waited for Dr. Mason to spread the special gel on her stomach.

She knew she'd spoil Chuck Jr. rotten, but how could she not? He was going to be her own little version of Chuck. A symbol to all the skanks of the world trying to steal her Chuck that he was really hers. They could never give him what she had done. They would never have a son that was the perfect blending of her and him.

The cool gel spread along her belly and she shivered slightly. She wasn't really paying attention to the ultrasound monitor, certainly not like Chuck, who was staring raptly. She already knew what the doctor would say, so she figured it was more important to start planning out Chuck Jr.'s life.

"Everything is looking good, Chuck," Dr. Mason said.

Sarah was so caught up in her fantasy about rocking Chuck Jr. to sleep that she didn't even blink at the fact that Dr. Mason had addressed Chuck by his first name. She didn't care; she was too caught up in the moment.

"All ten toes and all ten fingers; they're all there. Your little girl is nice and healthy."

She just hoped she had more to teach Chuck Jr. than the proper way of gutting a person and then disposing of the body. Maybe she could teach him to—

Wait, what?

She forced herself to concentrate on the present and not her beautiful future. "I'm sorry, but could you repeat that?"

"About the toes and fingers?"

"No, not that, the other part!" Sarah was starting to feel a little panic. It couldn't be true, could it? A girl? No! She didn't want a girl!

"You're having a healthy baby girl."

"WHAT!" she shrieked.

"Uh…yeah," Dr. Mason said. "You know what, I think I'm going to give you some privacy." Then the blonde doctor practically flew out of the exam room.

Sarah faced Chuck then, needing him to explain how this was possible. "I don't understand!"

Chuck looked at her with a confused expression. "Sarah?"

"Why is it a girl? That doesn't make any sense!"

Chuck shrugged his shoulders, a small smile on his face. "Well, it was 50/50, Sarah." He grabbed her hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. "I'm just really happy our baby is so healthy."

Sarah wrenched her hand free from Chuck's grasp and pouted. "But I don't want a girl!" Then she got angry, so angry that she wanted to kill somebody, like that damn pretty doctor. "That stupid website lied to me!"

Chuck blinked and then said, "I'm almost afraid to ask, but what website?"

"It said if you plowed me regularly doggie style that it'd increase my chances of having a boy. But it was all lies!"

"Sarah, that's just an old wives' tale. Why would you believe that?"

Sarah huffed and glared at Chuck murderously. "You're the one that said the Internet was good for more than just porn and fanfiction!"

"But I never told you to trust everything you read on it!"

"Why would you send me to something that lies, Chuck? I thought you loved me!" She started to cry.

Chuck's face immediately fell and he hurriedly wrapped her up in his arms. From that point on, he whispered comforting phrases into her hair as she cried.

In the back of her mind, she wondered if she'd be able to turn all this comforting into sex.

# # #

Sarah tried to sneak quietly into the house, but she should have known it was a fool's errand. It was one thing when she was not pregnant and still in top shape. She could move quietly and contort her body in whatever extreme shape the situation needed. That just wasn't possible with her now misshapen and hideously bulbous body. She had no idea how Chuck could even stand the sight of her sometimes.

Speaking of Chuck, she had hoped he would still be asleep. She had gotten up two hours ago to put her plan into motion, and when she had left, he was deader to the world than a log. Unfortunately, he hadn't remained that way.

He was waiting for her on the couch, yawning and looking upset. Oh great, she was going to have to deal with him getting his panties all in a wad, on top of all the other blows she'd already taken today.

"Where were you?"

She tried to evade at first. "I was out. Taking a stroll. It's a nice night, you know."

Chuck shook his head and yawned again. "It's past two in the morning. Try again."

Sarah huffed and sat down on a chair. Her feet were killing her. She just wasn't as mobile as she used to be, and damn if Dr. Mason wasn't incredibly spry.

Sarah sighed and knew that he'd find out sooner or later so she might as well come clean now. "I went to see Dr. Mason."

Chuck groaned and buried his face in his hands. "Fantastic."

"Hey! You don't know what happened."

Chuck nodded his head and he looked very tired. "Right, right, because you frequently drop in on other women late at night for perfectly innocent reasons."

"You still don't know," Sarah said stubbornly, even though she knew it was a losing battle.

"Okay, so when I call her office tomorrow morning, I'll be able to talk to her, right?"

"She could have slipped in the shower, you know."

Chuck just arched an eyebrow.

She let out a gusty sigh and then pouted. "Fine! We may need to look into getting me a new doctor."

"Do I even want to know?"

Sarah shook her head. "Probably not. I mean, I thought I had seen it all, but I had no idea blood could actually gush like that."

Chuck paled and ran a shaking hand through his hair. He looked completely frazzled. "Just…why?"

"She said we were having a girl! I don't want a girl, I want a boy!" She could feel the tears starting to form behind her eyes again and it just made her more upset. Damn it, she wasn't a crier! Stupid fucking pregnancy! And now she didn't even have the satisfaction of knowing that her baby was a boy to make all the suffering she was enduring worthwhile.

"Sarah, that's not her fault!"

"It is!" Sarah protested. "She should have done something all…doctor-y to make it better! That's what I went to talk to her about, but noooooo, she had to get all uppity and start quoting biology to me. I don't care about the stupid facts!"

"But I don't care!"

Sarah stopped the next part of her rant and looked at Chuck questioning. "You don't?"

"No, why would I? Son, daughter, I would love either one just the same. If anything, I'm really glad that we're having a girl."

"You are?" Could it be that maybe having a girl wasn't so bad? If Chuck didn't mind, then she could probably find a way not to mind as well, right?

Chuck stood up and walked over to her. He sat down on the coffee table and pulled her feet into his lap. He removed her shoes and started to give her a foot massage. She practically melted into the chair it felt so good. Not to mention turned her on like nothing else.

"Of course. Why wouldn't I want a little girl that looked just like her mother?" And then he grinned at her his heart-stopping smile and all her frustration disappeared.

"You promise? You're really not upset."

"Not at all."

"I'm sorry we're going to have to get a new doctor."

Chuck nodded and sighed. "It's okay, I think she was flirting with me earlier. You would have caught on eventually and then we'd just be in the same place we are now."

Sarah snapped forward, a look of outrage on her face. "What! That bitch! I'll kill her!"

"Ooooor, we could have sex. Which would you prefer?"

Oh crap, that reminded her. "Uh, Chuck, my prescription is still good even though Dr. Mason is dead, right?"

Chuck didn't say a word; he just smirked and started to walk toward the bedroom.

It took Sarah several seconds to rock herself to her feet, demanding a response from Chuck the whole time. He ignored her. She scurried off to the bedroom as fast as she was able. "Chuck? Come on, Chuck, don't be like that. It's still good, right?"

"Right?"

* * *

**Note**: Okay, so I'm kinda at a loss as to what to do for the next chapter. I have seven through ten planned, but six months was always nothing more than a vague idea in my head when I thought up this idea. So I am here to solicit ideas from you, dear readers. Feel free to share. You never know, it might inspire me.


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